Cherish Your Life
by StellaSirenetta
Summary: **CHERISH YOUR LIFE** "Those who do not appreciate life, do not deserve it..."
1. Like a Venus Fly Trap

_This is my first try at writing horror...its not my genre x)  
This is based on SAW, mainly SAW II, but it has elements from the other movies as well as my own creations. The characters are my own, but the dialogue (by "Jigsaw") is from the movie...so i quoted Leigh Whannel, the writer of Saw II at the end of the story  
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So hope you like it :)_

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The flickering light bulb slipped in and out of focus as Lydia began to stir, a sharp pain stinging her head

The flickering light bulb slipped in and out of focus as Lydia began to stir, a sharp pain stinging her head. Her whole body was sore, as though she had been beat up by someone with unrelenting anger. Rolling onto her side, she heard a crack and found that she had been sleeping on a small mirror. Holding the cracked mirror up to her face, she screamed in horror.

Her left eye socket was swollen and red; a huge bruise beneath it had blood flowing profusely down her face, making her features grotesque, and her hair was matted with dark blood. The mirror slipped from her grip and it shattered to the floor with a deafening crash.

A heavy contraption was attached around her neck and looking down she realized it was an open mask of some sort, with razor sharp nails staring back up at her. However hard she tried to get it off, it remained fixed in place.

Shivering and frightened, she sat bolt upright and lifted herself from the cold floor. Panting heavily, Lydia stared around her with growing horror, the blank stone walls glaring back at her with hostility. The stark glow of the bulb bathed the room in a somber radiance. It was dark, dank, and cold, with no windows, or a door, in sight. Discarded items, grimy and rusty, were scattered across the floor, an old television and rickety table the only things discernable among the rubble.

Another jolt of pain went through her head, and Lydia tried to stench the flow of blood oozing from her eye, but with no success. It shone bright red on her hands in the sickly yellow beams of the light bulb from above. Frantic, Lydia clambered around the room looking in vain for a way to escape.

"Hello! Somebody, help me!" she cried in desperation, banging against the walls. "Anyone, help!" Her voice echoed off the walls, and she knew that it was hopeless to think anyone would find her; she was trapped.

Suddenly, the television flashed on and, breathing hard, Lydia turned around sharply to face the screen, her heart pounding in her ears. Her dread deepened as a silhouette appeared on the screen; a hooded figure, its face submerged in shadow, and turned to face her.

"Hello, Lydia," it addressed. The voice was chilling to the spine and Lydia's terror intensified wondering how the stranger knew her name.

"I want to play a game," the voice continued. "So far, in what could loosely be called your life, you have made a living by watching others. Society would call you an informant, and rat, a snitch; I call you unworthy of the body you possess, of the life you have been given. Now we will see if you are willing to look inward rather than outward to give up the one thing you rely on in order to go on living. The device around your neck is a death mask. The mask is on a spring timer. You have sixty seconds to find the key. If you do not locate the key in time, the mask will close. Think of it as a… Venus fly trap. Taking into account that you are at a great disadvantage here, I will give you a hint as to where the key is hidden: it is right before your very eyes." Images of an x-ray flashed across the screen. Lydia gasped with shock at what she saw: an x-ray of a head with a key under the left eye…

"How much blood will you shed in order to stay alive, Lydia? Live or die. Make your choice."_1_

With a sinister cackle from the hooded stranger, the television switched off, plunging the room in semi-darkness once again. Lydia stared at the black screen in revulsion. How the hell was she supposed to get out of here? She tried anxiously to remove the contraption fastened to her, but it would not budge.

"Who the fuck are you?" she shrieked to the ceiling. Tears mingled with blood were now streaming down Lydia's face. "What did I do wrong? TELL ME! Get me out of here!"

Frustrated, she threw the rickety table down to the ground, sending its contents clattering to the floor. She raised her hand to her eye, feeling the callous bruise beneath her fingertips. She knew what she had to do, but she would rather pretend that there was another option than accept that it was the only way out.

"Please, somebody help me! Help me!" she yelled in anguish. She tried again and again to yank the mask off, even though she knew she could not. Then, she heard a clear _click _ring through the silent room, and a ticking noise began.

"Oh, shit," she whispered. "Oh shit, oh shit." Hysterically she looked around for something …anything that could help her. And then she saw it, gleaming in the dismal light beside the fallen table. Time was limited; she had to make a choice.

She picked up the scalpel and a fragment of broken mirror that had survived the smash earlier. Holding the mirror in one hand and the scalpel in another, Lydia's hand trembled as she brought it closer to her face. She could see the blade glinting an inch from her eye. She lowered her hand, breathless. The blood from her eye seemed to be flowing more copiously than before, splattering onto her bare chest, and Lydia's desperation to escape grew.

Lydia screamed in frustration. "No more! Somebody, please, help me!"

She brought the scalpel to her eye for another time. The blade was less than an inch away from her, and although time was ticking, Lydia could not bring herself to do it.

"FUCK!" she shrieked, throwing the scalpel to the ground aggressively.

Again she tried to get the device off, and its insistence to move caused more tears to roll down her face. The ticking seemed to get louder, ringing in her ears. The walls were closing in, its grimy walls suffocating her. She knew her time was up.

Lydia fell to her knees, weeping helplessly.

The timer tore through the threatening silence, and with a sickening clang, the mask closed upon her.

She swayed for a few moments…

And was dead before she hit the floor with a resounding thud.

_1 Dialogue by Leigh Whannell, writer of SAW II_


	2. You can, but you won't

"Nathan, can't you stay a little longer?" addressed the woman to her boyfriend, who was hastily grabbing his belongings and stuffing them into his bag. She was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

"I would if I could, but I got to go," he answered hurriedly putting his socks on. "Something's come up and it's important that I be there."

"But why?" she said, dropping her hands to her side, looking exasperated. "You're off duty; they can't call you when you're off duty. They don't need you. They can work it out on their own."

"This is a special case, and they said I needed to be there. They think it might be one of my people."

The woman walked over to the bed and sat down, twisting her hair with her finger. She looked up at him and pouted.

Nathan came and sat down next to her, brushing the hair tenderly out of her face. "Babe, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'll make it up to you later."

She swiped his hand away from her irritably. She said angrily, "That's what you say every time. I'm tired of your bull, Nathan. Sometimes, you've got to realize that there are more important things than work and—"

"More important things than work?" he retorted angrily. "My job saves lives. I work my ass off everyday trying to balance between my work and giving you what you want!"

"Giving me what I want? _Giving me what I want_? Bull, you don't know a damn thing about what _I _want, Nathan. What I want—what I _need_ is—"

"What _you _need is to take care of your own business, while I take care of mine. Maybe, spend some more time locked up in the room doing God knows what, and you'll realize that. And while you are _valiantly_ leading your life, I will carry out my petty work of solving mysteries and catching criminals. Sound fair?"

He knew he had touched a nerve because she looked down suddenly and her hair masked her face. When she looked up, her eyes were glowing with tears.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said taken aback, not meaning to upset her. He continued with a softer tone of voice and said, "Hey, we can talk about this later when—"

"I don't want to talk about it later, Nathan. _Now_ is the time to talk. You're never there when I need you."

"What are you talking about?" Nathan said incredulously. "We _do _talk together, don't we? Like last night when you were upset or the other day when—"

"Nathan, all those times I was talking to you, you never were _listening _to what I was saying," the woman said, her tear stained eyes blazing into his. "If you just take time to _try _and understand me, because, the truth is Nathan, you don't even _know _me and frankly—"

"I'm standing right here!" he said loudly. "What more do you want from me?"

The woman just looked at him sadly, almost pityingly, and shook her head as she looked away.

His patience thinning, Nathan's gentle demeanor evaporated and his cold resolve returned. "You know what, we're done discussing this. I'm going to work now. I'll call you when I get a chance."

Infuriated, the woman lurched off the bed. "Fine! Just go!" she said heatedly. She grabbed her purse and stormed toward the door.

Halfway out, she turned to look at him, tears running silently down her face. "The thing is Nathan, is that you _can_…but you won't, not even for me." She hastily wiped the tears from her face with her bandaged wrist before slamming the door shut behind her.

"Damn," he muttered to himself, running his hands through his hair. He knocked his bag from the bed onto the floor in frustration. His wallet lay open and a photograph of him and his girlfriend taken a couple of years ago was visible.

He picked up the wallet gently, bringing it closer to his face to see it properly. It had been taken after their trip to Venice. Nathan looked at her laughing face and his own, memories of gondola rides and gelatos flooding back to him. They had been so happy together back then.

There were so many things that had happened between now and then. It seemed as though that life, the one where he could actually laugh and smile as he did in Italy with his girlfriend, was a completely separate one from what he was leading now. It seemed like such a long time ago; like that life had belonged to someone else completely different. And all because of that one night.

If only Anthony hadn't gone with them, he could be here with him. Then, Nathan wouldn't have to live with the guilt weighing him down everyday.

Nathan's back pocket vibrated and he pulled his cell phone out, his sentimental mood fading. He flipped it open answering the call.

"Morales here."

A woman's voice replied. "Hello, Morales. It's Daniels. You need to get down here. We've just found some critical evidence that you need to take a look at."

"Alright, I'm en route."

Nathan flipped the phone shut. Pulling open a drawer in the bureau he pulled out his gun and stuffed it in his bag. Nathan threw his coat on, grabbed his bag and headed out the door.


End file.
